


Keep Falling

by phantisma



Series: Angels and Demons [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-17
Updated: 2006-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um...yeah, so Dean was drunk...and there was sex...and um, the despoiling of an...ummmm....So, yeah...Dean was drunk and there was  sex and wings and...um....now Sammy's found him and Dean has to explain why there are wings sprouting from his back...and then there's the sex...cause...I mean...wouldn't you want to have sex with winged Dean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Falling

Sam’s eyes scan the dark interior of the roadhouse for a sign of his brother. He’s cold and muddy. His run had turned into a rescue mission when he’d watched a car go off the road and down a hill. The recent rain had turned the hill into a mudslide and while he’d gotten the family out before the police and fire trucks arrived, he’d been rewarded with mud up to his thighs.

It isn’t long before he concludes his brother is no longer in the bar, which means either he’s out looking for Sam, or back in their room screwing whoever he picked up to take Sam’s place tonight.

He’s not jealous, he’s given up on that. His brother just isn’t built for monogamy. Sometimes he just wishes…Sam shakes his head and heads back out into the night. There’s going to be more rain.

Sam crosses the street, angling toward the Impala and their room. His eyes track a man coming toward him, tall…and…Sam shakes his head. He must be tired if he is imagining a random stranger wearing his clothes. He fishes his key out of his pocket and opens the door to their room, freezing as the smell hits him. Blood and sex and vomit. He fumbles for the nearest light, his breath catching in his throat. “Dean?”

There is blood everywhere. Blood and feathers. Feathers?

Sam moves into the room cautiously. Black feathers, some stirring in the air as he moved, others stuck in pools of blood on the floor. There are chunks of flesh. “Dean?” His voice hitches up a bit, in both tone and volume. “Dean?”

He picks his way around the mess, following the trail toward the bathroom. He can hear the shower running and he pushes the door open. “Dean?”

Steam fills the small room, but he can tell the hot water has run out. He can hear Dean whimpering and chattering. Sam pulls the flimsy curtain aside and squeaks. “Dean?”

Dean is huddled in the corner of the shower, shaking, the now-cold water pouring over him, over his back…over the black wings tucked tightly against his back. “What the fuck?”

Dean looks over his shoulder at Sam, but can’t seem to speak. Sam goes quickly from afraid to closing off the fear to simply deal with what’s in front of him. Sam turns the water off and reaches for a towel. “Come on, let’s get you out of there.”

Sam helps him out, herds him out the bathroom. “Sam?” Dean still looks dazed, and smells like he’s probably still drunk.

“Yeah, Dean.”

“I thought…you were…” Dean shakes his head and the wings ruffle. Sam can see the panic in his eyes. “The fuck?”

“That was my question.” Sam says. Sam looks over the scene, over Dean’s naked body, the black feathers glistening with moisture, the bloody trail through the room, the disheveled bed. “What the hell did you do, Dean?”

“Cold.” Dean shivers and clutches the towel. His face registers shock, and little else. One hand moves behind him, feeling up his back.

“Get dry. I’ll try to…clean up some of this mess.” Sam watches a minute, but Dean doesn’t move, so he does, squatting beside the worst of the mess. “Care to tell me what happened?” He’s angry, but Dean is in no shape for the beating he deserves. “You pick someone up you shouldn’t have?”

“He looked like you.” Dean says dully. “I was drunk and he looked like you.”

Sam sighs and starts picking at the mess, reaching for the tiny motel wastebasket. “Dean you are such a fucking slut.”

“Wanted you…you were gone.” Dean seems to be waking up from his stupor, which, Sam supposed, was better than the alternative.

“So you picked up some guy who looked like me, then what?”

Dean’s hand scrubs over his face, and he looks around the room like he’s just seeing it for the first time. “Fuck.”

“I gathered that part.” Sam says, making a face as he dumps a clump of feathers and blood and skin into the trash can. It’s hard to stay angry when Dean looks so lost, and Sam knows he’s too fucking drunk to be faking it just to get out of the dressing down he deserves.

There’s a rustling sound and Sam looks up and Dean is standing there, wings spread out, shaking drops of water from the feathers, and all thought of angry seems to slide out of him…damn but he’s beautiful like that. “Dean?”

“They’re wet.” Dean says. “I need…they need to dry.”

Sam nods and gets to his feet, setting the trash aside. There isn’t much he can do without cleaning supplies and for the price of the motel, he’s fairly sure they’re likely used to dealing with random strange blood stains.

“Let me see.”

“No.” Dean turns away, all but slapping Sam with his left wing.

“Dean, I need to see. I can’t help you if you don’t let me—“

“Sam, they’re wings. Fucking wings.”

Sam closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “Yes, Dean, I realize that.” He crosses his arms and stares at his brother until Dean caves and turns around so that Sam can examine his back. Sam inhales sharply. Dean’s back is red and angry, though the wounds are healing. The wings erupt out of his back, just inside his shoulder blades, the muscles rippling as he moves them. “Hold still.”

“Dude, it’s not like I’m controlling them.”

Sam sighs and lifts one hand to stroke over the curve of the right wing, not quite touching, though Dean shivers as if he’s tickling him. His hand connects with flesh and pulls away. “Does it hurt?”

“Not like it did earlier.” Dean says through clenched teeth. “When he…when it happened…I thought it would kill me.”

“Well, it’s healing.”

“Healing? I’ve got fucking wings coming out of my back, Sam. That doesn’t strike me as healing.”

Sam hides his chuckle under a cough as he moves away.

“So tell me how it happened.” He perches on the un-rumpled bed and waits as Dean paces. Sam’s moving beyond angry, part because Dean’s naked and pacing around him…part because it’s his job to fix it. Just like he always did whenever Dean got into this kind of mess. And somehow Dean did, get into this kind of mess. “Was it a witch?”

Dean is actually blushing, which is something Sam has never seen, and he’s naked, his lean body tense, those impossible wings shimmering as he holds them out to dry. “His name was Michael. I was drunk.”

“I think we’ve established that.” Sam says quietly.

“I think…fuck…he was an…” Dean stops and looks at Sam, his face filled with something Sam can’t place. “Angel, Sam. He was a fucking angel.”

Sam frowns and looks up at Dean. “An angel?” Dean is standing there in front of him and Sam is suddenly aware Dean’s cock is hard. His eyes sort of stick to it, watching it bob as Dean shifts his weight. Sam licks his lips, feeling himself harden too. “No such thing as…”

“And yet…” Dean holds up his arms and the wings ruffle and spread out still wider and Sam feels his cock twitch.

“Fuck.” Sam whispers and closes his eyes. He needs to concentrate. “Fuck,” he says again and presses a palm to his groin. Somehow the sight of black feathers against tanned skin is shooting through him, and he wants to wrap his lips around Dean’s cock. With a deep breath Sam turns his attention to the problem. “Okay, so an angel. That doesn’t explain how you ended up with wings.”

“He…we…there was sex.” Dean’s face flushes with even more red, making his eyes greener and his freckles stand out.

“Again, I think I gathered that.” Sam stands up, adjusting his jeans for comfort.

“He said it was only temporary, a punishment.” Dean says finally, his eyes downcast. Sam turns to see him, those wings curving lightly around him as if to protect him, his beautiful body practically glowing, his cock curved and hard. Sam gasps and can’t stop himself from reaching out to wrap a hand around his brother’s cock.

Dean hisses as Sam’s hand closes around him, and Sam shifts so that he’s standing within the circle of his wings. “For what?” Sam asks, his hand working over Dean’s cock as he presses closer. Sam clears his throat and nuzzles into Dean’s neck. “Punishment for what?”

Dean’s eyes flutter closed. “He used me, Sammy.”

Sam really does chuckle at that, his lips skimming over Dean’s throat. Usually it was Dean who did the using, taking some random stranger to satisfy whatever need, to drown his guilt, to ease the pain, and casting them away as they roared out of town.

Sam’s tongue darts out to lick at the valley at the base of Dean’s throat and damn but he tastes…different…sweet…”Fuck.” Sam whispers again, rocking a little on his feet. Dean’s hard in his hand, hard and just waiting for Sam to stroke him. “Dean…tell me…I need to know.”

Dean sways, those impossible wings closing around Sam, pulling him closer. “Punishment for…being his…for letting him….”

It dawns on Sam slowly, because he doesn’t know much angel lore, though he has a feeling he’s about to get a crash course. “He used you to fall…to lose his wings?”

Dean nodded, leaving his head bowed against Sam’s shoulder. “I get that, but why did he have to give them to me?”

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are right now?” Sam whispers, though he’s pretty sure he hadn’t meant to. “I’m so hard Dean.”

“And I’m the slut?” Dean asks, lifting his head a little. His hand comes up to cup his brother’s groin through the denim and he smirks a little. “Fuck Sam.”

“Yes, god…yes, Dean…please.” His voice sounds so needy, even to himself and he can’t believe how turned on he is. “Move them…I want…god.” Dean’s upper body shifts, and the wings rustle around them, they spread out to their impressive span and Sam groans.

“Got a thing for feathers, Sammy?” Dean asks, his voice deep with lust, with the control he knew he held over Sam when he was needy like this. Dean’s fingers press in against Sam’s cock and Sam rises up on his toes to escape them.

“I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t stop.” Sam whispers, grabbing his brother’s hand.

“Do it.” Dean says, though there’s no demand in his voice, only teasing…only playful toying as his hand digs in hard and Sam bucks against him. “Come for me Sammy…”

Sam tries to pull away, but Dean has him off balance now, his hand expertly moving over the hard curve of his cock and down, his fingers strumming against his balls. “God, Dean!” Sam’s eyes close and he can’t help but rock into the rhythm. “Fuck!”

And just like that he falls over the edge, collapsing against Dean as his orgasm quakes through him and his come fills his shorts. It takes a moment to regain his feet, and Dean just stands there, holding him…and Dean’s still naked and Sam’s still dressed and damn but Sam can feel his cock considering more already. He hasn’t been that quick on the recovery since he was sixteen. “Fuck.” He pulls away, walking toward the bed and collapsing on it.

“Yeah, you’ve said that.” Dean deadpans, and Sam can’t look at him, at his hard cock, at his broad chest, at those fucking fantastic wings…because damn…it will kill him. Dean turns, takes a step, and his cock is there in Sam’s face. Sam stares at it…at Dean.

“Sam. Sammy…come on…don’t leave me like this.”

“I’m not the one who fucked an angel, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes roll shut and his hips sort of undulate toward him and despite himself, Sam’s tongue slides out to swipe across the pre-come gathering at the tip…then down and around. “Fuck, you taste like gingerbread.” Sam says, pulling back.

Dean quirks a smile, his hand rising to touch Sam’s face. “So did he.”

“You sucked his cock?” Sam asks, before opening his mouth for his insistent brother’s cock.

“Yeah…Sammy…I got on my knees and licked it…oh, god…” Sam’s tongue slides down the underside, tracing the long vein to his balls. “Let him slide into my mouth.” Sam’s lips close over him and Dean’s fingers tangle in his long hair. “Fuck.”

Sam takes him deeper with each stroke, and when he looks up at Dean through his long eyelashes, he swears he feels his brother’s cock vibrate. “Then he fucking lifted me off my feet and pushed me into the door, and he fucked my ass Sammy…god…Sammy….”

Sam scrapes his teeth lightly along Dean’s length, before closing his lips again and sucking him in. All the way, deep into this throat, swallowing and Dean thrusts forward involuntarily. Sam looks up and Dean’s wings are spread out over them, sheltering, protective, black as night and beautiful as sin. The expression on his brother’s face is just blown with lust and Sam knows, just knows he’s not gonna last much longer.

His own cock is fully hard again and he fumbles with his zipper as Dean takes over control of his mouth, fucking into him faster, using the hand tangled in Sam’s hair for leverage. Sam barely gets his hand around his cock before Dean is coming with a strangled cry, slipping from Sam’s lips with a pop as strings of come shoot out of him and he staggers backwards.

Sam’s eyes close and he strokes himself, holding the image of Dean standing over him in his mind until a hand touches his. “Sammy.” Dean’s voice is needy and rough and his hands pull him up off the bed. “Fuck me, Sammy…”

“Dean…”

“Please…Sam… god…want you…” Dean’s kiss is urgent, his tongue fierce, filling Sam’s mouth with the taste of ginger and sweetness and suddenly Sam wonders if his come tastes different too and he’s dragging a finger through the little bit that landed on his shirt, sucking it into his mouth and god…

“Fuck…Dean…”

“Sammy…” Dean moves to the bed, wings spread wide, bending over so that Sam has a full view of his ass, and up that long back to where skin and bone jut out and up.

Sam’s jeans fall of their own accord, and he’s there behind Dean, working a finger into him…and he’s already been fucked, but he’s still tight and hot and Sam’s cock twitches. “Yeah…yeah…Dean. Hold on.”

There’s lube in the pocket of his jeans and his cock is aching to be inside his brother. He wants to touch him, his back, those wings. It takes him a minute to get himself slicked up and Dean is already hissing when the head of Sam’s cock touches him. “Do it…god Sammy…now.”

He pushes in, past the initial resistance, into the heat, collapsing forward onto Dean and trying to set a slow pace so he can enjoy having his brother this way…his lips press the skin between the wings and the flutter, and that alone nearly makes him come. “Fuck,” he whispers into the feathers near his face, pulling slowly back out.

Sam’s fingers stroke the strange new bones tenderly, then up over the rounded ridges at the top of the wings. Dean moves under him, pushing back, groaning. “Like that?” Sam gasps.

Dean’s head presses forward as he nods, the wings rippling under Sam’s hands. “Harder.” Dean bites into the pillow and Sam isn’t sure if he means his cock or his hands so he does both, slamming into Dean and pulling his hands along the top of his wings, all the way out as far as his hands will go. Sam grips them, and Dean raises them, and Sam slams all the harder into Dean, arching his back as his orgasm rips through him unexpectedly, hard, despite having just come minutes before.

Dean’s wings slowly lower, and Sam with them…until he’s laying on top of his brother with his wings tucked under him. It only takes a minute and Dean is moving, shoving at him to get off. “Hurts,” he mutters as Sam rolls off with a huff.

Sam sits up, watches as Dean stalks the room in search of his boxers. “You okay?”

Dean stops and turns to look at him with his boxers in his hand. “Do I look okay, Sam?” The wings flare out to his side. “Wings, Sam. Fucking wings.”

“Okay…but you said it was temporary, right?”

Dean nods and starts pulling his boxers on. “I don’t know how long.”

“So we do some research in the morning. See if we can find out.”

Dean groans. “Why is it always me?”

Sam chuckles. “It isn’t always you, Dean. But you really are such a slut, do you really need to ask the question?”

“What if I’m stuck like this?”

“You won’t be.” Sam gets up to change out of his come stained pants. “Because I think I might just die of lust if you are.”

Dean threw Michael’s abandoned robe at Sam’s face. “Yeah, and I’m the slut here.”


End file.
